Leap of Faith by Jamie Blair Read Free Book Online

detergent dispenser on the wall.
    Back through the door, I ask the waitress for quarters. She digs in her apron and produces a couple dollars’ worth, and I hand her two ones.
    “Can I hold her while you start up the washer? I’ll come back there with you.”
    “Yes, that would be great.” Relieved with her offer, I head back to my dirty clothes with her on my heels. “I can’t believe how much harder everything is with a baby.” Standing at the machine, I hand Addy over to the woman.
    “You don’t have to tell me.” She makes cooing baby noises at Addy. “I had five of my own. I moved here three years ago to help care for my mother. Now I never see them, or my grandkids.”
    I feel like a wart on the ass of humanity standing here with this woman who gave up so much to help her mom when I just screwed mine over so royally. She catches the expression on my face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
    I nod and turn toward the detergent dispenser on the wall beside the door. I will not feel bad about giving my mother what she deserves, about giving her back some of the shit she’s dealt me my whole life.
    I dump in three quarters and jab the button for Tide. The waitress is over by the washing machine, shaking her head.
    “You can’t put whites in with jeans. Everything’s going to turn blue. Here.” She settles Addy into my arms, grabs the detergent out of my hands, digs the whites out, and tosses them into the next washer.
    “But, I don’t—” I don’t have the money to do two loads.
    She waves me off, digs in her apron, and pulls out more quarters. “I’m Ivy, by the way.”
    “Thanks. I’m . . .” I can’t tell her my name is Faith. What if she finds out I’m a babynapper and turns me in? “Leah. I’m Leah.” It’s my middle name.
    She smiles and runs a finger down Addy’s cheek. “What about this little one? What’s her name?”
    “Addy.”
    “Very pretty. And old-fashioned. My grandmother had a cousin named Addy.” She shakes the powdered soap into both washers and starts them. “Come on. Let’s see if your burger’s ready.”
    Sitting sideways back at the table, I prop my legs up on the chair next to me and lay a sleeping Addy in the divot between my knees.
    Ivy comes over and sets a plate piled high with fries on the table in front of me. The cheeseburger is barely visible under the crispy heap. Then she places a dish of coleslaw down beside it.
    “You need vegetables to keep up your strength. It’s not easy raising a little one.”
    I shrug. “Got fries. Potatoes are vegetables.”
    She smacks my shoulder with the dishtowel she used to carry the hot plate to my table. “Don’t be a smarty-pants.” Then she slides into the chair across from me.
    I make an empty spot on the side of my plate, twist the lid off the ketchup, and turn the bottle over. Ivy’s staring at Addy, who purses her mouth in a sucking motion, dreaming of her bottle.
    Ignoring them both, I snatch up the newspaper and flip to the Furnished Rooms for Rent section of the classifieds.
    Addy and I are like birds that flee to Florida in the winter, looking for a warm, safe spot to land. There has to be a place for us somewhere.
    “Looking for a place to live?”
    I tip the newspaper and peer over the top. “Yeah.” I eye her warily. What if she knows about us? It might be on the news. There could be an Amber Alert out for Addy.
    “Well, this is perfect!” She slaps her palm on the speckled Formica tabletop. “My nephew’s got his upstairs for rent. I’ll give him a call. He lives over in Jasper. It’s a cute little town. You’ll love it.”
    I’m just about to argue, not wanting this woman to be able to pinpoint our exact whereabouts, when she adds, “It’s the perfect town for raising children—great schools and parks, nice neighborhoods.”
    I peer down at Addy as Ivy pushes herself to her feet. “Think you can make it out there today to take a look if my nephew will be around?”
    Addy’s